It’s hard for me to love other people. It’s even harder for me to love myself.
I was driving home from work Monday evening and I had just angrily hung up the phone. A woman had called me from a company that did some work at my house a few years ago. I didn’t like the way the company was handling its business with me, but it was nothing personal with the woman.
The thing that annoyed me wasn’t her fault. She was just reading a script. She was doing her job. But I was in a bad mood — and I took out my frustrations on her.
I wasn’t nasty or rude, but I certainly wasn’t kind or loving.
As I drove the rest of the way down I-459 toward home, I stewed in my irritation, but my annoyance quickly turned toward myself. I wasn’t upset with that woman or her company.
I lectured myself about being a hypocrite. I berated myself about my unwillingness to live up to my values when it wasn’t convenient — when I wasn’t in the right mood.

I’ve struggled to finally believe there’s more than one ‘right way’
Sad husband: ‘My beautiful wife is dying; I’m so sad I can’t sleep’
AUDIO: If we’ve experienced hurt, why do we keep trusting in love?
Zimmerman verdict is correct, but there’s no cause for celebration
Anonymous ‘Santas’ secretly paying for families’ Christmas layaways
Check out my Tuesday interview on Steve Gelder’s political radio show
The Alien Observer: Craving predictability in a world gone mad
What would your obit say about you — if you could write it yourself?